A/N: This is different so I would not mind feedback. Feel free to review! Just a warning, there isn't the usual AU names (Rachel, Richard), it's Rochelle and Emmett. I hope you don't mind.

New Life

It had been three weeks of my new life and still the past daunted me. I lay awake on my bed, studying the canopy above me. The nightmare was still fresh in my mind and eyes. I could not determine if the dampness rolling off my cheek was sweat or tears. I dared not close my eyes lest the images paint themselves on my eyelids. I threw the heavy cover off my body, letting the cold air touch my bare skin. I needed fresh air. I threw my legs over the side of the bed and stumbled to the window, clutching the pane for support. The window was already open, letting in the dark morning air. I leaned out the window and inhaled a deep breath of winter. The sweat and tears froze on my face and left me shivering. I relished the open feeling of not being confined to a room. Ever since an incident that occurred not too long ago, and incidentally was the cause of all my nightmares, confined spaces have caused deepest fear within me.

The almost eerie quiet of the morning hours hung above the city. The buildings and streets had a blue tint to them as the sun was not up yet. The room I now occupied looked over the street below, which would be crowded in the swing of the afternoon. I looked back over my shoulder at my quarters. If it weren't for the lingering dream I would have smiled to myself. I very much enjoyed my new life. Over night, I had jumped from lower class farmer's daughter to upper class niece of an Uncle and Aunt who made their wealth over the years from investments overseas. My room was proof enough of the transformation. The room consisted of a dark wooden canopy bed that bore draped plum curtains over the top and sides. The heavy comforter was yet another luxury that was new to me. It was plum as well and stuffed with down feathers from a goose. The fabric was most soft and provided warm winter nights that I had never known before. The furniture matched my bed, what with the dark wood. There were two bed side tables on either side and a mirror and vanity opposite the bed. A table with a porcelain bowl took space by the door so the maids could easily have access to it. To the far left in the corner was a small desk that was without a chair, which had a leg missing. The chair was being repaired by the family's carpenter. The room lacked art or much décor of the liking because this room had been vacant and unused before I stumbled onto the threshold, begging for refuge.

If I could, I tried to avoid that memory. If I kept a memoir I would surely leave a few things from its pages, this would be one. But my mind had defied my wanting and left me reminiscing of the night I came to be here.

After the incident, the one that was the seed of my nightmares, I took what I could and eloped from my countryside home and the tragedy that would have befallen me if I stayed. I knew of a sister of my mother who lived in the city. I only knew where she resided because when I was but a young girl I remembered hearing my father cursing her and her household in a drunken rage after he found out she and my uncle moved into another rich folk home with the money he envied and believed should be his.

He blamed our low class in society on me because if my mum was still among the breathing than her rich sister would share her wealth with us. The only reason she would dare send any means of wealth to my father was because he was married to my mum, who passed on when birthing life to me.

I had tried at least seven houses, retreating with shame after each failure. Eventually, I found the right one. I had knocked so carefully on the door, trying not to sound too urgent or rude. A maid answered it within the third knock. She took one look at me and where suspicion had occupied others, worry was in its place. I asked if this was the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Hatton. The maid nodded with a smile and ushered me in out of the cold. I remember worrying that my aunt would not believe me that I was her sister's daughter for she had never lain eyes on neither me, nor I her. The moment she saw me, tears swelled in her eyes and her cheeks flushed as she embraced me. Not one word of doubt of my identity crossed her lips.

"You like just like my dear sister!" She cried pulling away to get another look at me. I was tired from the journey I probably showed little emotion. She didn't seem to notice. My aunt called in Uncle, a much more solemn man, and left a few seconds to dig up a forgotten picture of my mum that was taken before my existence.

"She has Ellen's eyes. Look at those pretty grey eyes!" She exclaimed holding the aged photo up to my face for everyone to see.

"And your hair! You have her raven black hair. Oh, how she favored her hair! Your nose is a wee smaller but your lips are just as rosy as hers, I remember. You have her heart shaped face, too." She cooed excitedly.

The woman was not too far from the looks of the picture herself. Her hair much grayer and her face was not as smooth. But her nose was a duplicate of the woman in the picture. Not until later did it register with me that that was my mum. I finally had a reference of her. I finally could imagine her with accuracy. If my mum was half has animated as my aunt was, I was sorry I missed out on the optimism growing up; it was surely of lacking in my father's household.

After they calmed down, more so my aunt than anyone else in the room, the maid showed me to the guest room, which was later to be my quarters.

The next few days were a blur of excitement as Aunt Becky rushed to move me in. My uncle was less of a participant as he spent most of his days in his study. I don't remember, but I had to have told them about my reasons for coming to them with just short notice. They took me in graciously and changed my surname. I was now a part of the Hatton family.

A week later and I was just starting to get the smallest bit acquainted with such a different lifestyle. My aunt ordered me to start caring a parasol because my skin was darkened from living on the farm. She assigned a young maid to me, Ms. Peterson. She was not but four or five years older than I. Never had I even considered that I would have a personal maid and it was awkward at first. After all, I had always dressed myself. I felt like a hypocrite, having Ms. Peterson brush my hair every morning and night and waiting on my beckon call. I did not know how to speak to her or how to ask for anything. Ms. Peterson laughed when I shyly asked if I could decline her companionship.

"Ms. Hatton, I am no slave. I get paid to take care of you." She smiled. "There's no need to feel guilty about my services."

A bird's song brought me back to reality. I looked out the window and the sun's rays were begging to reveal themselves against the blue sky. I walked back to the bed, pulling the covers back over me and closing my eyes. No images. I sighed in relief and turned onto my side, waiting to catch some more sleep before my day started.

It was Ms. Peterson who woke me. She opened the door, letting in the outside light. I sat up, and watched her move about.

"Good Lord, why is the window open? It's far too cold." She scorned, moving across the room with her arms wrapped around her. She reached out and pulled the window shut, latching it.

"Um…I got…warm last night." I half lied. I did not wish for her, or anybody, to know my childish fears.

She looked at me with doubt, or perhaps suspicion, in her eyes. She laid the back of her hand on my forehead.

"You don't feel ill…What say you?"

"I'm fine, really. But thank you, Ms. Peterson." I said with genuine gratitude.

I watched as she continued with her chores.

"I told you before, you can call me Hannah." She smiled, dumping some steaming water into the sink by the door.

"Fine, an eye for an eye, you have to call me by Ro, not Ms. Hatton." I grinned, stretching my arms.

"How about Rochelle?" She tried.

"No, the name does not suit me." I explained. I did not find my given name agreeable.

"Well alright. Ro it is, but not in the presence of Mr. or Mrs. Hatton."

I got out of my bed for the second time this morning and washed my face. The warm water felt good on my skin. I dried my face off on a fresh towel.

"Come now, I have to measure you for an evening gown for tea time. Mrs. Hatton needs it before next week so I have to do this hastily." She said helping me on a small stepping stool that she retrieved from the foot of my bed.

I listened as Hannah said the measurements aloud. She measured my arms first and then my torso, chest, waist, and lastly my legs.

"Your aunt asks it to be a sage green. Do you have a preference?"

"No. Green is well." I said stepping down.

"I will be back in a few moments to help you with your corset. I put some new clothes in your closet." The dresses and other garments of clothing that I acquired during my new life here were store purchased, so Aunt was worried that they wouldn't fit me perfectly. Apparently in this class of society buying things from a store was for middle class. Upperclassmen had personal tailors, their maids. I defiantly did not mind if they were store bought, though. I was accustomed to much less in my former life.

My eyes widened in awe as I opened the closet, revealing assorted colors of fabric that were mine. As soon as Hannah left, I took each one out and admired them individually. There were four. One was a deep purple. The other was an overwhelming shade of yellow and next to it was a soft rose color. The last dress was a gorgeous dark blue, almost navy. I returned them except the blue one. Deciding that the blue dress was an immediate favorite, I began to change into my undergarments quickly before Hannah came back.

I threw off my nightgown, letting the cold air press up against my skin, making the hair rise on my arms. Just as I slipped the last garment on, Hannah knocked.

"Come in." I said welcomingly, accepting her implores to enter.

She slipped into the room with a corset in hand and some long ribbon in the other. I hadn't quite gotten used to the damned things, and I was still coping with the lack of air I was admitted. It surprised me when Aunt Becky told me that the corsets now were designed to let you breathe more. It made me cringe at the thought of what kind of breathless hell the girls before me had to go through. Aunt also explained to me the purpose of these unholy things, saying that they were structured to thin the waist to a span of a person's hand while thrusting the hips back. The front of the corset was straight, which resulted in the wearer's bust to be forced forward. I soon learned that vanity was of top priority in this society.

I turned around, gripping the bed's post to brace myself. Hannah wrapped the corset around my torso and fiddled around with the string and then warned me to get a good grip as she began stringing it up.

"So, do you have a dress picked out?" Hannah asked, trying to mask my gasps for air as she further tightened the corset.

"The blue one, it's beautiful." I fought to keep my voice steady as she gave it another tug.

"That's a fine choice, Ma'am. Now we just need you an evening gown."

"Why must there be so many occasions? Half my day will be spent dressing and undressing." I immediately wanted to grab the words and place them back in my mouth. Guilt stabbed me in the back. I had just complained about changing my clothes to many times when a few months ago… I was lucky if I had anything to change into the next day. I was ashamed of myself.

"I am sure the alternation between classes has done a toll on you."

"It's just… incredibly different. My not having a mother to teach me proper etiquette will cause future problems." I hadn't an issue with talking about my mum. I never knew her anyway, so I felt no pain when talking of her.

"Well, dear, just remember to smile. I don't know what your past life was like, but be sure to have reverence in your manner of speaking." She advised, giving a good jerk behind me. I tightened my grip on the bed post.

"Thank heaven for books." I whispered to myself. If it weren't for the books my mum left behind, my vocabulary would model itself after my fathers, which wasn't much more than angry words.

Silence inherited the room. I would not have minded but I needed something to distract myself from the uncomfortable sounds of my gasping and the strings growing taught with every pull.

"So why did you decide to be a maid?" I asked ill at ease. After it left my lips, I realized it wasn't the most respectful question and I wished I had just bit my tongue, again. I sighed in frustration at my consistent mishaps.

"I didn't mean that like being a maid is a bad thing." I tried to cover up my tracks. I was relieved to hear Hannah laugh. Her melodious laughter was becoming quite familiar to me.

"I know you didn't mean it like that. I decided to be a maid quite a while back. See, when I was little, my family needed some extra money, so my mum signed me up for some experimental vaccine." She took hold of the strings in one hand and then leaned around me and held out her free arm. "Pull my sleeve up."

I looked at her, worried about what I was going to find. It wasn't that I was scared; I just felt pity for her even before I saw what was covered. I slowly pulled her sleeve up.

"Everything was fine until a month later when my hair began to fall out. I become increasingly ill. We found out that I had Eczema, patches of my skin inflamed and took on a rosy hue. A week later it spread. Now I have permanently discolored skin on this arm, my stomach, and my leg."

I looked at her, worried that I just opened a painful door to her past. She showed no sign of pain in her mentality.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

"Please, miss, you have no need to feel sorry for me. My scarred skin forced me to find a low key profession and your Aunt graciously let me work for her and be trained under her maid's supervision."

She tugged one last time before tying it off. I ran my hands up and down the corset's piped fabric.

"I will do your hair and then you have to go downstairs for breakfast. Your aunt and uncle are waiting." Hannah announced as she sat me down at the vanity. I looked in the half length mirror. Within minutes my hair was pinned up into a bun. My loose ringlets made it hard for Hannah to prepare a neat bun. I didn't mind, I rather my hair looked messy because it was not me to be so pristine. Some ringlets were too short to reach back and they hung elegantly, framing my face. I must say that fixing up my hair all pretty every morning wasn't such a bad thing. I can see why my mum was so fond of her hair. I never had any reason to appreciate mine. I assure you, I was not vain, merely amazed in my discovery of the luxury of being vain. However, I could most defiantly do without the corsets and layers of dress that I had to sport.

Hannah helped me into the blue dress, making sure my hair did not come undone as we struggled with the cloth. When we had the dress on properly Hannah excused herself to complete some other early chores. I had the room to myself. I looked in my full length mirror. I was a completely different person than what I was accustomed to. I was so elegant looking. I fancied it and hated it at the same time.

I had been wearing only one dress before we purchased new ones. That was my aunt's old one. It was a bit small on her so she figured it would do best for me. Still, we had to use a pin or two to adjust it.

The blouse of the dress I was wearing draped over my shoulders and drooped where the waist band hugged me. The sleeves were tight at the top and flared out at the bottom towards my elbow were it ended. The skirt of the dress brushed the ground with ease. Pearl white lace adorned the hem of the skirt, blouse, and collar.

I slipped my feet into my muddy pair of shoes that had not been replaced, yet.

I descended the stairs quietly, hoping to not attract attention to my late entrance. As I hit the last step, the wood cried out in defiance. I stopped, rolling my eyes at the irony. I took a deep breath. As I walked in, Aunt and Uncle watched me take my seat. Uncle went back to eating immediately after my arrival but Aunt kept her watchful eye on me as she discreetly chewed her breakfast..

"Good morning to you, dear," She smiled.

"G 'morning, Aunt Becky," I said with just as much good humor. "Uncle Andy."

"How was your night?" She continued.

"It was fine." I lied.

"I see Ms. Peterson dressed you in one of the new dresses. Soon you'll have a complete wardrobe." Aunt Becky claimed.

I smiled and took a bite of my breakfast. If I thought that being an upperclassman affected my looks, the food I had access to was amazing. Sausage, eggs, fruit, finely prepared meat, wine, and many other foods were becoming a part of my daily diet.

After breakfast, Uncle Andy kissed me and Aunt on our foreheads and took refuge in his study.

We left the table to be cleared. Aunt led me to the coat room, handing me a coat I was barrowing from her. It was heavy and grey. It didn't match my dress, which I had no problem with, but my Aunt started criticizing it.

"Why are we putting on our coats?" I asked confused. We had nothing planned today as far as I knew, and I highly doubted we were wearing the coats for the thrill of wearing them.

"I wanted to show you around London, or rather around our district, so I told Ms. Peterson that we would take over her errands for a while." She explained as we exited the house. We stepped out onto the small porch. A small flight of four stairs connected the porch to the pathway that lead through a short front yard and out a high iron gate. "We have to go by the bakery; Mr. Anderson will be delighted to meet you. We'll do that last so the bread will be fresh and we can have it for lunch when we get home. We have to pick up the chair for your desk at the carpenter's. And Andy wants a newspaper so we will stop by the store on the way back and get one for him."

Her wide brimmed hat brushed my cheek so I stepped to the side, trying to evade the monstrous hat. A long feather adorned the hat along with three smaller ones.

We walked beside each other as we made our way down the cobblestone street that was visible from my room's window. The sun was up now and shown his rays over us, casting short shadows. As I predicted, the street became increasingly crowded. People brushed passed and others pushed past. A few children squeezed themselves between Aunt and me. I laughed at their innocence while Aunt cursed their manners. The city's air was much thicker than the country's and it was apparent that the factories did a toll on the freshness.

I listened to Aunt comment on the high number of the lowerclassmen who were "loitering" about. I hadn't even noticed, or cared to, count the number of well dressed people or poorly dressed people. My eye wasn't trained to catch these details. Perhaps if I was brought up in the higher part of society I might have. I was exceedingly grateful of my Aunt's gracious acts of taking me in off the streets of London and housing, clothing, and feeding me, but I must say. Her nose seemed to be higher than her forehead most of the time.

I found myself leaving the one sided conversation that seemed to interest my aunt and pondering the character of my uncle. He was much quieter than his wife and he seemed like a man who could be mighty cold if he wanted to, but could also be standing there with his arms spread out in a welcoming manner just as boldly. He seemed to have his wits about him and more organized than Aunt. All in all, I was lucky to have such relations. At least they came from my mum's side and not my father's.

I was so caught up in my head that I almost missed Aunt Becky turning into the doorway of a shop. I quickly recovered and took a step into what would be the next step into my new life.